


Steve Rogers: Architect

by loonietuna



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Architect!Steve, Contractor!Bucky, Enemies to Lovers, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Not Related to "The Architect" Film Starring Sebastian Stan, Sexual Content, Tony Stark is the real MVP, meet ugly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4317372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonietuna/pseuds/loonietuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why would he actively try and fuck up a building that he and his men are constructing? You really that narcissistic to think the guy is giving blood, sweat, and tears just to fuck up your project?” Sam asks incredulously. </p><p>“Every time Sam, <i>without fail</i>, every time I go to that site something is wrong, or something is being built that wasn’t in my fucking plans.  I can’t go to the site every day and watch over his shoulder, I’ve got other buildings going up!” Steve sighs, throwing his hands up.  Steve was fortunate enough to hit the ground running after school and has become one of the youngest architect to achieve his level of success – a level that warrants him being contracted by Tony Stark personally to work on his namesake – so Steve can’t fuck this up.</p><p>More importantly, Steve can’t let <i>Barnes</i> fuck this up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve Rogers: Architect

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the Architect AU that nobody asked for that I wrote anyway!!!
> 
> Seriously, I've been mulling this around for so long I can't even remember if this was a prompt or the result of the construction constantly inconveniencing my life IRL, but here it is!
> 
> First off: Sometimes I specify, most often I don't, but most of this story takes place during the first year of construction.
> 
> Secondly: fun fact! Did you know Stark Tower took [four years to build](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stark_Tower)? The things you learn doing research. Which I did by the way, though this fic is by no means an accurate portrayal of what happens while building those Skyscrapers. I tried to be accurate, but research only gave me so much so I had to take liberties, as you do. So if you're a [Ted Mosby](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ted_Mosby:_Architect) and stickler for all things architecture, you may want to sit this out.
> 
> Thirdly: though I've been thinking about this story for a while, I didn't actually get the inspiration to write it until yesterday where I wrote almost 10k in a few hours. So, it is rough. There were no betas and only my own edits so any errors are on me.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“Hell naw, man. I’m not falling for that shit again,” Sam says, shaking his head vehemently and avoiding eye contact with the man across form him at all costs.

“Come on, Sam, please? Do it for me…I just, I can’t handle this today. My plate is full,” Steve begs.  He’s been trying for the last two days to get Sam to go check up on the Stark Project without him, so far he’s having no success. 

“Nope, no.  Last time I went out to Stark’s site on my own, I ended up there for two extra hours listening to you and Barnes duke it out over the phone – my phone! I was held hostage! I’m not going to suffer by myself this time,” Sam insists.  Steve’s face must look like he is in genuine pain because Sam only rolls his eyes and crosses his arms across his chest.  “You can put up with Barnes for one afternoon.”

“That’s the thing! I can’t.  The guy is actively trying to fuck up this building I swear to god.” Steve throws his pen on the desk between them, his patience draining faster and faster as he comes to terms with the fact that Sam isn’t letting him off the hook.

“Why would he actively try and fuck up a building that he and his men are constructing? You really that narcissistic to think the guy is giving blood, sweat, and tears just to fuck up your project?” Sam asks incredulously.

“Every time Sam, without fail, _every time_ I go to that site something is wrong, or something is being built that wasn’t in my fucking plans.  I can’t go to the site every day and watch over his shoulder, I’ve got other buildings going up!” Steve sighs, throwing his hands up.  Sam nods knowingly, he’s been working with Steve’s architectural firm for years as Steve’s go to structural engineer.  Together (with Banner, their mechanical engineer, and Thor Odinson, their electrical engineer) they’ve worked on numerous projects.  Steve was fortunate enough to hit the ground running after school and has become one of the youngest architects to achieve his level of success – a level that warrants him being contracted by Tony Stark personally to work on his namesake – so Steve can’t fuck this up.

More importantly Steve can’t let _Barnes_ fuck this up. 

“Steve, you’ve got to go.  If there is something wrong you’re the most qualified to identify it and fix it. Banner, Thor, and I? We just know our part, you know the whole building front and back and beam by beam.  Now I am not playing mediator between the two of you again, not after last time, so get your head out your ass, put on your big boy pants, and let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky hates these days.  Bucky hates these days with every fiber of his being – review days.  Once every two weeks or so, the designers of Bucky’s latest endeavor leave their cushy desks in their air-conditioned high rise offices and come visit the peons working day in and day out on ‘their project.’  As if just because they planned it, it’s only theirs.

Not that Bucky and his guys build the structures beam by beam literally from the ground up.

It’s always a pissing contest, even with the most civil of architects and engineers, but Rogers is the worst.  More often than not, the tour ends with Bucky’s hackles raised and Rogers baring his teeth.  He doesn’t know why he and Rogers don’t get along – actually that’s a lie, he knows exactly why – Rogers is a pretentious, know-it-all asshole who thinks that just because he squiggled some lines on a big piece of blue paper he gets to push Bucky around.

Let’s ignore the fact that half the designs on the pieces of paper aren’t practical and Bucky has to somehow coordinate those plans into becoming tangible.  Fuck Stark and his outlandish demands.  Fuck his dog – Steve Rogers – chomping at him.  Fuck being a whipping boy.

“It’s just for a few hours, Barnes. Chill,” Comes a cool, smooth voice from behind him.  Natasha, their project manager (and unofficial mediator), is standing at the door of Bucky’s tiny trailer, hands on her hips and amusement on her lips.  Her hair, fiery red, is unleashed from beneath her hard hat when she steps inside.  “Should’ve known I’d find you brooding in here.” She teases.

“Fuck you.”

“He’s not that scary, Barnes.”

“I don’t think he’s scary. I think he’s an ass,” Bucky clarifies and Natasha’s eyes brighten.  She gets so much amusement out of Bucky and Rogers’ tour days, and once Bucky starts his soapbox he can’t stop. “I have never, in my almost ten years in this business, met a team that changed their prints as often as Rogers’.  Seriously, who adds fountains last minute? Big-ass, gaudy fountains. And in the middle of the fucking lobby after we’ve already started going up?  What kind of fucker does that and doesn’t even get the permit process at least started? An ass, that’s who,” Bucky spits. It was still doable, working in the fountains, but it’s going to be a pain in the ass Bucky will feel for weeks and he is undeniably bitter at the thoughtlessness, the unprofessionalism of it all.

Natasha purses her lips but agrees with a nod.  “It’s funny; I’ve known Steve for years and I’ve never seen anyone get a rise out of him like you. Except maybe Tony, but Stark’s got that effect on everyone,” Natasha muses, smile never once leaving her lips. 

“He looks like Mr. All-American but he embodies our worst trait: he’s a muscle-brained punk who thinks he can just push everyone around and I ain’t takin’ that shit lyin’ down,” Bucky huffs.

“That’s funny, because I always imagined between the two of you he’d be the one taking it,” Natasha says coolly.

“Huh?”

“Oh I’m sure I’ve told you this before…no?  I was going to introduce you two to each other months ago, but you two have always been so busy,” Natasha says casually.  “When I found out Stark hired both you and Rogers I thought for sure you two would hit it off, not actually…hit each other.”

“It was _one time_.”

“Whatever, either way I’m sick of you two trying to one up each other.  Do me a favor today, skip the semantics and just put your dicks on the table and get it over with,” Natasha says with a groan and rolling her eyes.  Bucky gets it, she’s sick of the pissing (or dick measuring?) contest.  She was probably as sick of hearing it as Bucky was tired of talking about it (though for the record Steve did start it, stupid punk).

Bucky lets her little joke slide and after a beat Natasha’s words sink in. “Wait…so Steve’s gay?”

“Oh, so now it’s _Steve_?” Natasha teases and Bucky makes a show of deepening his scowl, frown practically hanging off his chin.  “To answer your question, I’m pretty sure he’s bi.  I thought you were totally his type: tall, dark, and cocky.”

Bucky rolls his eyes with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter. Guy is an ass and I’d never, in a million years, let him put his dick anywhere near me or else I’ll bite it off.”

“…Am I interrupting?” Natasha’s eyebrows hit her hairline as she bites her ever-present amused smile. Bucky practically snaps his neck to find the devil himself in his doorway, six-foot-two and built like the fucking tower they’re working on.  The annoyance of his presence quickly extinguishes any embarrassment Bucky has over what Steve may have heard. Wilson was with him at least, maybe they could get through this afternoon actually being civil.  Probably not.

“Of course not.  Hello, Steve,” Natasha greets warmly.

“Hey, Natasha. Barne,” Bucky ignores the way Steve’s tone clips his name like he can’t wait to finish saying it.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Bucky groans, and leads the way out to the site.

They walk through the double doors of the ‘lobby’ and are greeted with the familiar sounds and smells of construction.  Bucky explains that the plumbers are here early to help rework the foundation and groundwork for the fountains Steve had ordered last minute. “It’ll set us back of course, permits pending.  We can’t lay any of the piping until they come through, but we figured we’d get a head start so we aren’t too far behind –“

“What’d’ya mean we’ll be behind? Last week you told me we were ahead of schedule,” Steve frowns, flipping through some papers on his clipboard.  Bucky fought the urge to roll his eyes and instead nodded to the men with the electrical saws.

 "Your latest add on is going to put us over…Had you started the permits or, I don’t know, had the fountains in the original plans like any self-respecting designer would, we’d be on time.  Unfortunately for both of us, you did not, so we’re behind,”  Bucky tried to be polite, or so he tells himself, but his patience evaporates quickly in the heat of the day and Rogers isn’t helping.

The blond’s face is pulled into a deep look of concern as he pulls one of the rolled up plans from under his arm.  “Fountains? What fountains?”

“Are you shitting—the updated progress plans you sent me last week? Ya know, the ones that miraculously had half a dozen floor to ceiling waterfall fountains in the main lobby,” Bucky bites, and Steve scrabbles to straighten his blueprint.

“I didn’t write for any of that. Sam?” Wilson shrugs but looks over Steve’s shoulder at the blueprint in front of him, after a quick look Bucky shakes his head.

“No these aren’t them, these aren’t the same plans you sent me.  See, here and here and over here you added fountains and extra room for seating,” Bucky explains with frustration and pointing heavily at the page. “That’s what your notes said.”

“No I didn’t – we would’ve never authorized that; not now that the foundations been set and this late into the build.  You need permits and support and…it changes the whole structure –“ Steve scrambles.

“Yeah, Rogers, I know. Hence why my guys have been working overtime and why I’ve been yelling at poor little government workers for permits,” Bucky bites.  “Hence why my usual calm and collected self is fucking pissed.”

“Hey, that’s not my fault,” Steve fires back on the defensive, an angry flush blooming up his neck.  “You’re building on illegal plans, Barnes.  You could get this whole site shut down!”

Bucky’s mouth hangs open. “You’re saying this is _my fault_ . I’m going off _your_ blueprints, pal.”

“No, you aren’t! Anyways didn’t it occur to you that a change this big would probably require some clarification? I haven’t heard anything about this,” Steve accuses.  Natasha and Wilson both go a little wide eyed and take a step back because…well…

Because Bucky fucking loses it.

“Oh you got balls of steel, Rogers! I e-mailed you half a dozen times, I called your office – _Natasha_ called your office – you were out on sites and not taking calls.  I had to go through your little intern for any clarification! Fuck, I even called Stark!”

Steve visibly pales. “You called Stark?”

“ _Of-fucking-course_ I called Stark,” Bucky sneers.  “ _You wouldn’t answer my calls_ and he’s the fucking client.  So I asked if he’d discussed the added fountains and he said yes. So I gave up trying to get a hold of you and just started.  Hell, if I waited until I actually talked to you we would be a month behind because the only time you ever bless us with your presence are on these survey days!”

“Well they aren’t my plans! I don’t know whose they are but see this-“ Steve points to his signature on the lower right hand of the prints. “This means it’s mine. I personally sign every single one of my plans.  I bet the plans you’re using don’t have that.”

“Oh you wanna bet?!” Bucky huffs and wheels around, beelining it to his office with Steve hot on his heels.

 

* * *

 

The men storm off back to Bucky’s office and Bucky pulls out the exact print he needs and flattens it across his desk.  Sure enough, in the lower right hand corner is Steve’s signature, dated and timed.

“What?!” Steve shouts, flabbergasted.  He’s honestly never seen these plans in his life, but it looks just like his own work and, just as Bucky had said, there are outlines for six fountains in the lobby.  Steve clenches his jaw and Bucky leans against the desk on his knuckles, not even trying to hide his pleased, smug grin.

“Your intern delivered these to the site after your last visit. You think you’re the only architect in the Tri-state area that signs his fucking prints? I checked.” 

Steve frowns and shakes his head. “I don’t have an intern,” Steve explains. “I do all of the plan running myself, either me or one of the other members of my team.  None of us have interns.”

Bucky matches Steve’s confused look.  “Then who the fuck is Parker?”

“Parker?” Peter. Peter _Parker_. “Stark’s intern. Stark…god-fucking-dammit STARK did this, of course he did.  He can’t keep his goddamn nose out of it!”

Bucky’s eyebrows pinch, “Huh?”  But Steve was already walking towards the door of the trailer and yanking his phone out of his pocket.  Sam and Natasha are finally moseying their way to him when Bucky hangs out of the trailer and asks “Where are you going? What about the fountains?”

“I’m calling Stark.  Go ahead and keep digging the holes for the piping, I’m going to need a place to stash the body when I’m fucking done with him…” Steve grumbles, not really loud enough for anyone to hear. He climbs into the car and slams the door shut, completely livid.  Fortunately (or rather, unfortunately), Steve’s got Stark on his speed dial list.

“You have reached the voice model decoy for Tony Sta-“

“Tony! What’s this I hear about you delivering unapproved plans to Barnes?” Steve barks.

“-rk, he is _not_ sorry that he has missed your call. He will—“

“—Answer the goddamn phone when he’s about to get fined millions of dollars for unapproved addendums to his namesake!” Steve bites, he can feel a throbbing pain behind his right eye, the one that always seems to happen when Tony Stark is involved.

He can hear a beat of silence from Stark’s end, only noticeable because Stark never takes a break if he can hear the sound of his own voice.  “He is very sorry about that, but he seems to recall having said that he wanted a…luxury like entrance, casino-esque if you will, and when I – he – saw the plans and noted a lack of waterfall fountains, he decided to make some adjustments.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and the throb behind his eye spreads. “You can’t just _do that_ , Tony.  These plans take time, they go through a very strict and detailed process - permits, safety - multiple eyes have to go over each blueprint before they make it to the contractor. _Especially_ in New York City.”

“They're fountains!” Tony exclaims. “What harm does adding a few fountains do?”

“Well, we have to re-coordinate the foundation, which has already been poured, to accommodate the piping.  We need to run extra water, electrical, the whole second floor –“

“I get that, I am a genius you know.  I think I can figure out your little…drawings,” Tony says dismissive and bored.

“It doesn’t matter that you _can_ , you aren’t licensed! You could seriously get this whole thing shut down – then we’ve got a giant hole in Manhattan where your ego is supposed to be!”

Steve can practically hear Tony rolling his eyes. “Ok, you’re upset-“

“You’re damn right,” Steve grumbles, and he could hear Tony sigh on the other end.

“I’ll get it worked out, do you know where the permits are? I’ll have them expressed. I’ll have Pepper have them expressed, though they were supposed to be a surprise,” Tony says dramatically and Steve can feel himself deflate a little.  Sure, working with Tony was frustrating when he feels it’s his inherent right to stick his nose in every small thing he shouldn’t (and ignore the things he _should_ ), but at least he’s able to fix them in a reasonable amount of time, even if he never learns.

“Oh, by the way, have you met Barnes?” Tony asks suddenly.

“What?”

“Barnes, have you met the contractor James Barnes?”

“Tony, we’re months into this…of course I’ve met him. Why?” Steve asks.

“Oh, no reason,” Tony says with an air of nonchalance. Another beat. “What do you think?”

“Of what?” Steve sighs.

“Of Barnes - stay with me, chief.”

Steve bristles. “I think he’s a self-proclaimed victim, a smug know-it-all, and a jerk.  This is going to be the longest project ever having to put up with you two.” 

“Huh,” Tony says, a hint of honest shock in his tone.  Steve looks over his shoulder to the trailer where he’s sure Sam, Natasha, and Barnes are waiting for him.  He thinks back to how he acted, what Barnes said (Steve really had been screening Barnes’ calls), and feels like an ass.  He _is_ going to be working with Barnes for a while and four years is a long time to be at each other’s throats.  Steve lets out a resigned sigh.

“Tony, I gotta go.  Stop messing with the tower, it’s done, the prints are final and _you_ approved them before we even broke ground.  If I hear you or Parker are on the site and I’m not there I’m personally flying to Malibu and kicking your ass.” Steve hangs up before Tony can make some wise-ass remark and makes his way back to the trailer to apologize with his tail between his legs.

Barnes takes Steve’s apology as expected, with a self-satisfied grin oozing with smugness that has Steve almost expecting Bucky to place his hand out for him to kiss his rings.

Steve tries not to think about how attractive he thinks that look is.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a little over two months before Steve himself goes back to the site.  This time they remain civil.  The project is almost back on track after the fountain fiasco and Steve spends the entire time trying to ignore the way Barnes practically swaggers around confidently with his hips loose and shoulders wide.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Barnes! Get down here and take a break, will ya? You’re makin’ the rest of us look bad!” Dugan calls over the radio.  Bucky’s been up on the higher levels helping with some welding, doing whatever he can to help speed up this project.  Steve was coming to the site today, and Bucky tried not to think of his nerves.  The past two months have had Wilson or Banner or Thor (or a combination of the three) coming to the site to check on their progress. 

It’s been a little strange between Bucky and Steve since the fountain thing, Steve seemed a little embarrassed and a little more wound up than usual whenever they spoke, and his last few inspections with the blond had steadily gotten worse; Steve seemed to fidget more and hardly met Bucky’s eyes.  Bucky was trying to be civil, especially when Steve was the better man and apologized, but it’s like the better Bucky behaved, the nicer he was, the more Steve seemed uncomfortable and dismissive until finally Steve just stopped coming all together.  Granted, they still had to speak regularly on the phone and send regular email updates, but nothing beyond professional courtesy.

Bucky tries to remind himself that that’s exactly what their relationship is supposed to be—professional. Still, he can’t hide the nerves bundling in his stomach at the fact that Steve was coming to the site himself today.  A lot has changed since he was last here in person two months ago.

“Coming,” Bucky grunts into the receiver before stepping into the construction lift and going down.  Bucky taps his fingers on the metal railing, this Steve thing is really bothering him more than he’d like to admit.  He finally finds all the guys gathered around their large lunch table in the loading dock, he takes off his hard hat as he steps in and finds himself shocked and soaked as Dugan and Jones pour a cooler of ice cold water over his head, drenching him from head to toe.

“FUCK!” Bucky screams, his voice cracking as he pulls his sopping wet shirt from his skin.  The guys all erupt in laughter, whooping and hollering.

“Sorry, Boss, just thought you needed to 'chill out',” Jones laughs.

“Yeah, Bucko. You’ve been lost up in that head of yours and working your fingers to the bone.  Where’s our totalitarian leader, eh?” Morita jokes loudly, snapping his wrist like he’s cracking a whip and clapping Bucky on the back.

“Fuck you all,” Bucky bites, but there isn’t any heat behind it and his teeth are practically chattering from the ice.  “Just tryin’ to pick up the slack you boys keep makin’.”  The guys all groan good-naturedly in unison.

“Whatever man, you just tell that Rogers guy to stop changing everything.  We’d be paintin’ by now if we weren’t constantly takin’ two steps back,”  Dugan says around a sandwich.

“He hasn’t changed anything in months,” Bucky says, surprising even himself by coming to Steve’s defense.

“Yeah, but if he hadn’t added those damn fountains, or the glass lifts, we’d literally be almost done and on our merry way,” Monty adds.

“Don’t exaggerate. You know this tower is going to be sucking out our blood, sweat, and tears for another couple years,” Bucky scolds lightly.  “Or are you in such a rush to leave me, Monty?” The Englishman smiles wickedly and Bucky makes a hurt sound.  

“I’m wounded,” Bucky cries, hand over his heart. 

“Dramatic as ever, boss.  But you know what I mean,” Monty says, rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah,” is all Bucky can say.  He can’t exactly tell his crew that Steve is being strong-armed by Stark and his wild half-ego-half-love-declaration to Pepper Potts.

“Speaking of Rogers.  What’d’ya do, Barnes?  The first few months of this I thought for sure you two going to kill each other, now it’s like every time the guy comes around he’s immediately rolling around belly up,” Dugan notes, limping his wrists and bringing them up to his chest, even panting stupidly for emphasis.

“It was all just a misunderstanding. Don’t worry about it,” Bucky shrugs, running his hands through his hair and stepping into the sunlight and trying to dry off his shirt.  He wore white, so it’s practically translucent and sticking to his skin in the mid-summer humidity. Jones and Morita give a loud wolf-whistle while Dugan is mid-sentence of something even Bucky finds crude when Natasha steps into the loading dock.

“Having fun boys?” Natasha asks, eyebrow cocked at Bucky’s current state.  Bucky shrugs with a laugh before he notices Steve step up behind her, face red and eyes wide.

 

* * *

 

Steve was pretty sure he was dying.  Literally. Dying.

He’d been actively avoiding the Stark site for months after he’d come to the conclusion that his intense hatred for Barnes had somehow bloomed into a childish crush.  It wasn’t professional, he’d told himself (and Sam), plus he was 99.9% sure the guy hated his guts.  But when Bucky gradually started coming around, making polite conversation and even cracking a couple jokes during their tours and over the phone, Steve felt his feelings spin out of control.  It wasn’t just the smart-ass jokes or the gentle ribbing that practically had Steve doubled over inside - _that_ he could handle – even if it was flirtatious.  No, it wasn’t _that_ , it was the wolfish grin, the Cheshire cat smile that only Bucky Barnes could pull off – so wide the corners of his eyes crinkled and his eyes almost closed, and always so genuine.  If Steve wore panties, they’d be around his ankles.

Then again, if Steve were wearing panties, he was pretty sure this whole situation would be on a completely different level, and _that_ was a fantasy Steve did not need to visit right now.

Walking in to see Barnes sopping wet in a white t-shirt, clinging to every muscle in his apparently chiseled physique, fingers combing through his hair, Steve was one Neanderthalic step from knocking Natasha over and mounting Barnes right there on the god damned concrete.  Instead though, Steve clears his throat and gives a surprisingly level greeting.

“Oh, I get it now,” says one of the men, the one with the big moustache. He brings his wrists up to his chest and pants garnering a laugh from the rest of the guys. Steve can see them shift their attentions from Barnes to Steve back to Barnes again.

“Shaddup,” Barnes scolds, before giving Steve his megawatt smile.  “Sorry, guys got a little rowdy, but if you don’t mind the mess, I can still give you that update,” Bucky offers, his eyes offering a hint of a promise that Steve feels in his groin.

Thankfully Steve can nod, because frankly he can’t speak.

 

* * *

 

“So when are you going to ask Steve out?” Natasha asks Bucky one night over her carton of Thai.  It’s late, and they’re alone in the trailer going over supply orders for the next week.

“Huh?” Bucky grunts, he’s got his chopsticks between his teeth as he types a few adjustments to the list invoice.

“Steve.”

“Rogers?”

Natasha drops her carton with a sigh and gives Bucky an unamused look.  “Yes, Steve Rogers. How many Steve’s do you know these days?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”  He can feel Natasha’s glare to the side of his head.

“Why not? I see the way you look at him.”

 _Because from all the work calls he’s been forced to subject Steve to in the past few months have been nothing but polite pleasantries with no sign of intent on the other end. Because Steve’s hard to read and no matter how flirty Bucky tries he’s only met with professionalism. Because this project is going to take at least another three years and that’s a long time for things to go horribly wrong and that’s the last thing they need._ They’re all valid excuses, but he can’t bring himself to say them.

Bucky shrugs.

“Boys are dumb,” Natasha grumbles into her food, and _thank God_ for once in her life, she drops it.

 

* * *

 

“So when are you going to ask Bucky out?” Natasha asks Steve one day over lunch.  It’s early, Natasha had apparently tricked Steve into an interrogation over the guise of picking up Steve’s weekly focused prints from Steve’s office.

“What?” Steve asks, practically dropping his fork, he recovers quickly, though not without getting the corner of Natasha’s mouth quirked, tugging up just so.

“Bucky. I’m pretty sure if you asked Bucky out he’d say yes,” She says.

Steve clears his throat and tries to, for once in his life, act cool.  “Maybe that’s exactly why I don’t ask?”

“Too shy or too scared?”

“Too busy.”

 

* * *

 

“Happy Birthday!” Bucky says excitedly, hugging Natasha when she answers the door.  She’s wearing a black cocktail dress that hugs every curve just right, and Bucky gives an appreciative waggle of his brows as she spins playfully.

“Right? Thanks, it was my birthday present from you this year,” Natasha husks.

“Taking a page out of Potts’ book huh?” Bucky laughs, hanging his coat up by the door.

“You got many things, Barnes, but the fashion-gay-gene was not one of them.” Natasha winks.  “Come help me in the kitchen?”

“A dinner party, Nat? Really?” Bucky asks as he follows Natasha through her lavish Manhattan apartment into the kitchen, the kitchen any chef would kill for, which is an unfortunate waste on Natasha who honestly can’t even make ramen noodles.

“I’m almost thirty, it is no longer acceptable to throw a rager.”

“ _You got two years,_ ” Bucky reminds her, “and I wasn’t saying you should’ve had a kegger, but, I mean…really Natasha? A four course meal? You don’t even cook.”

“I still don’t,” Natasha says simply, leveling him with a look. “But Pepper got me a guy who can, so we’re having a five-star, four course meal tonight in my honor.” Natasha pulls out a bottle of red wine from the wine fridge and motions for Bucky to grab the glasses.  They’re almost at the end of the hall when Natasha says quickly, under her breath, “Oh by the way Steve’s here, so be nice.”

Bucky almost drops the fine crystal. “What?!” he hisses a whisper, “You invited Steve?”

“I invited a lot of people. I have a lot of friends.” Natasha shrugs.

“You could’ve warned me.”

“So you’d wuss out? I don’t think so.”

“I wouldn’t have, it’s your _birthday_ ,” Bucky insists, a little offended. Natasha throws him one last glare before they finally reach the party. 

“Look who’s here finally!” she laughs, and Bucky tries not to read too much into it when he sees Steve visibly brighten at the sight of him.

 

* * *

 

“How come I never knew you were friends with Nat?” Bucky asks, Steve notices his tongue has loosened through the evening after only a few glasses of wine. They’ve found themselves chatting on the far end of the couch, a little separated from the rest of the group still chatting away at the table.  Steve can see Natasha glancing their way every few minutes and smiling. 

Steve shrugs.  “I’ve worked with Fury and Natasha a few times on separate projects.”

“No shit, I’ve been working with Nat for years. How come this is our first time working together?” Bucky asks, sounding genuinely disappointed.  He’s twisted so his arm is leaning against the back of the couch, his chin propping his head and his body facing Steve. Everything about his body language is open and welcoming, and Steve is trying very hard to keep on the right side of friendly, but his face is warm from wine and his belly full with food, and Steve is finding Bucky’s company more and more comfortable as the night goes on.

“No idea.  Maybe they thought we’d try and kill each other if we met,” Steve wonders aloud and Bucky lets out a low chuckle.

“Well, they weren’t wrong.”

“We weren’t that bad though,” Steve tries, his voice audibly reaching.  Bucky raises his eyebrows in disbelief and Steve laughs. “Yeah, ok, you’re right, it was pretty bad.”

“Dude, I’m not going to lie, I wanted to kill you the first few months.  I’ve never worked with someone so fucking stubborn in my life.”

“But most of it was Tony, I was completely innocent,” Steve insists, but Bucky gives him that look again, and Steve’s face splits. “Yeah, ok.  Listen, I just…I prefer the term passionate. I had a vision, and, and what I saw wasn’t it.  I can’t help it, I know what I want and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure it’s done right.” Steve frowns to himself, surprised, and looks at his own glass.  _How many of these has_ he _had?_

“I bet you do,” Bucky practically husks, leaning back and grinning at Steve like a cat that’s got the cream, and Steve feels his face go hot. “Gotta respect a guy who knows what he wants.”

“Mm,” is all Steve can muster because _forget his face, Steve feels his whole body go hot_.

“What about me?” Bucky asks.

“What about you,” Steve says, he leans forward a little, one leg bent onto the couch to face Bucky and he rests his elbows on his knees, his body language challenging in hopefully the best sense.  Bucky quirks a brows like he appreciates the view.

“Did you hate me? At first, I mean.”

“Pfft -  _Yeah_ ,” Steve says a little too bluntly.  Fortunately Bucky laughs, his head tossed back and his eyes crinkling.  “Sorry, Buck, but you were a complete dick when we met.  And then for the tours? You were just pickin’ a fight.”

“Me? You were the one pointing at everything wrong,” Bucky says, not put off in the least.

“I wouldn’t have said that if they were right like they were supposed to be,” Steve says, raising his hands palms out.

“Constructive criticism works best,”  Bucky hums.

“What, like the ol’ criticism sandwich? Need me to buffer the faults with some compliments, Buck?” Steve teases.

“I have a delicate ego, my friend.  Maybe I wouldn’t have swung at you had you been a little more gentle.”

“Oh I can be gentle, as gentle as you need me to be so long as we can get done right,” Steve says, his voice dangerously low and he can see Bucky’s eyes visibly widen, his lips parting and his hands tremble on the glass he’s holding. _Good_.  “Then again, I was pretty impressed. You’ve got a mean left hook.” Steve rubs the right side of his jaw, and Bucky watches the motion with a wince.

“Not my proudest moment – but hey, you deserved it.  Had to knock some sense into ya, plus I like to think it worked.” Steve glares at him, but there was no real heat behind it, his mouth already twisting into a smile.  “At least now you know bette,.” Bucky adds.

“Mm.”

 

* * *

 

Natasha stands there in front of Bucky, hands on her hips and a look of disappointment on her face. “I thought for sure you two were going to start fucking right here on the couch, what happened?”

Bucky shakes his head and raises his arms.  How was he supposed to know? Everything was going great, hell, he thought they were going to fuck too.  With the party over Natasha was finally able to give Bucky a piece of her mind, but instead she groans and falls onto the couch, kicking off her heels across the room and putting her feet onto Bucky’s lap before draping an arm over her eyes.

“You boys are hopeless.”

“Stop, Nat. Maybe he’s just not that into it.”

“Natasha tilts her head up and gives Bucky a heavy frown.  “Oh, he’s into it. I was watching you two all night – “

“Creepy…”

“—and he was definitely into it.” Natasha wiggles her toes and Bucky gives in, pressing the heel of his hand to the sole of her foot.  Bucky likes it when Natasha’s like this, when she lets her hair down and gives in and relaxes.  She’s even more honest than usual, which is pretty damn honest, but she’s also more open with her emotions and it isn’t lost on Bucky to know this is a privilege that not many get to see.

“Well, from a professional standpoint--” Bucky starts and Natasha groans, annoyed, “it’s smart not to get involved now.  I mean, a lot can happen in three years right?  God, we were bad before we even knew each other. Imagine how it’d be if we were exes having to finish this.” Bucky grimaces at the thought.

“I’m sick of you two being professionals. I mean, you both choose _now_ to be grown-ups and handle things like real adults? It’s unreal. I swear you two are two halves of a whole.”

“Maybe after Stark Tower is finished we can…I don’t know…try it out.”

“I don’t know, Barnes, three years is a long time to wait on someone. And guys like Steve…” Natasha trails off and Bucky swallows hard at the thought, not needing her to finish.  He hadn’t even considered it that way…

 

* * *

 

 

Sam is staring.  Sam is staring at Steve over his desk and has been doing so for the last twenty minutes. 

“What?” Steve sighs, turning from his computer and looking at Sam.  Sam is leaning back in his chair, palms pressed together and fingers over his lips, making it completely obvious that he is staring, and judging, his partner.

“Last Friday…”

“Oh, Sam. Again?” Steve scoffs.

“Dude. Come on! Barnes was practically eating out of your hand, why didn’t you ask him out?” Sam asks for the hundredth time.

“Because we work together,” Steve repeats _for the hundredth time_.

Sam flails his arms. “So?  Man, if I was into that…I would be _so_ into that, ya feel me?  Stop worrying about being professional, people date coworkers all the time, man.  It’s natural. It’s who you’re around...”

“It’s a time bomb,” Banner deadpans from his desk, not even bothering to look up.  Bruce, like Steve, was probably just as tired of hearing about this.

“I bet you’re great at parties.” Sam scowls at him.

Bruce rolls his eyes.  “What if they break up? Then what?  He works miserably for the next three years.”

“He sees him now only once every few weeks for a few hours at most,” Thor says, “That’s hardly any time at all.  Plus, if we rotate who goes to the tower, it’s even less.  I don’t see why this is a problem.” And Sam beams and points to Thor excitedly.

“ _My man_ —see he gets it!” Steve groans that his personal life is once again the topic of discussion.  These guys were worse than high school girls.

“There are five people you should never date because it can only lead to trouble: your best friend, your co-worker, your neighbor, and your doctor,” Bruce says matter-of-factly.

“That’s four,” Thor notes.

Bruce counts on his hand. “And your boss, which in a way, you’re both his co-worker and his boss.”

“I’m not his boss, trust me, he’ll be the first to say that I’m not his boss,” Steve laughs.

“Ok, ok, I get that it can go wrong, but what if it goes right?” Sam asks.  “What if, by the grace of whatever god you believe in nowadays, Bucky ends up being the One?  You two were eye-fucking at Natasha’s, and we both know why you were really invited. Take a chance, either you’re miserable a couple times a month for a short amount of time, or you could be super happy for the rest of your life.”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“Sounds like an easy decision.” Thor nods.

“Besides, you can’t listen to Banner.  The guy married his old co-worker! And wasn’t she like, your boss’ daughter or something?  How is Betty anyways?” Sam asks and Bruce gives Sam the finger – lovingly, Steve’s sure.

 

* * *

 

Steve picks up on the third ring. “Rogers.”

“Hey, Steve, it’s Bucky…Barnes.  Bucky Barnes.” Fuck, why was he so nervous?

Steve laughs lightly. “Hey Bucky Barnes-Bucky Barnes, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Bucky can’t hide the smile in his voice.  “I was looking at the prints Wilson brought this week and I wanted to clarify something…”

Steve was suddenly very silent.  “Ok…”

“Were you serious about adding the aviary?”

“The _what?!_ ”

 

* * *

 

“TONY WHAT MADE YOU THINK YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH ADDING A FUCKING _AVIARY_ TO THE TOWER?!”

“Language! And I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, _FUCK off_! Don’t play dumb with me Tony, I am so not in the mood.”

“Rogers, for once in my life you’ve got to believe me, I did not mess with your prints.”

“What? Then who--?”

“But now that you mention it, it’s a great idea…Pepper loves birds.”

“No fucking way, Stark.”

 

* * *

 

 

“What the hell, Sam?!” Steve squawks when Sam picks up, not even bothering with a greeting.

“I take it you’ve spoken to Bucky?”

“Did…Did you add the aviary?! What the fuck Sam!” Steve couldn’t believe this.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.  Plus I knew Barnes wouldn’t have gone ahead without clarifying first.”

“You owe Stark an apology,” Steve hisses.

“Oh no…you didn’t.  You called Stark first?”  Sam howls. “You called Stark first.  Guys, he called Stark first!”  Steve can hear Thor’s booming laughter in the background.

“Of course I called Stark first! He’s a menace and he started it!” Steve practically shrieks into his phone, embarrassed and angry and annoyed as hell.  Sam cackles across the line. “I’M HANGING UP NOW!” Steve yells.

“Yeah, yeah, so when’s your date?”

"NEXT FRIDAY!” _Click_.

Steve swears he can hear Sam cackling from across midtown.

 

* * *

 

“TUUUURRRRRKAAAAAY!” Bucky shouts triumphantly, pumping his fist as Steve sits at the board unimpressed.  Bucky wanted to do something active, but something that they could still talk during. Since sex isn’t an option this early in the game, Bucky settled for the next best thing: bowling.  Bucky fucking loved bowling.

He sniped those pins every-fucking-time.  His ball curved just right, hitting that sweet spot of the center pin and plowing through, leaving nothing in its wake.

To both Bucky’s glee and disappointment, it turns out Steve is a terrible bowler. In fact, their first game he didn’t even break seventy-five. 

“I really never bowl.  I think the last time I went I was probably just a kid,” Steve explained over pizza and beer between games.  Bucky explained how the crew is in a bowling league, The Howling Commandoes (“Don’t ask, I have no idea where the name came from…”), and they play every week, at least in the winter time.  He feels bad bringing Steve knowing he plays so well, so the next game he decides to take it a little easy, maybe let the beers loosen him up a bit.

That was a mistake.

Steve may not bowl often, but the guy is a quick learner.  Bucky didn’t even give him any pointers, Steve just watched and next thing Bucky knows Steve’s throwing spare after strike after spare.  Bucky stares down the lane, standing with his ball in his hands, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as Steve _nails_ a 7/10 split without evening watching the pins go down. Turning around coolly and hearing the pins fall behind him.

“Oops.” Steve shrugs.

Bucky isn’t quite sure what possesses him in that moment because bowling isn’t exactly an erotic sport, but next thing he knows he’s got one hand wrapped around the nape of Steve’s neck and their lips pressed firmly together.

Steve startles, and he lets Bucky swallow his gasp as he licks into his mouth, lips and tongue hungry.  Steve gives a soft moan that makes Bucky think he’s been dying for this as he wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist and pulls him in impossibly closer. The motion knocks Bucky’s ball out of his hands and straight onto the floor with a loud crack.  The two men jump apart quickly.

Bucky picks up his ball and when he stands up Steve leans in for one more quick kiss. “I like this.” Peck. “I’ll knock ‘em down every time,” Kiss. “If you’ll reward me with these.” Kiss. 

Bucky ducks away with an undignified squawk and a promise of no more kisses as his toxic competitiveness kicks in. He’s the first to admit he’s a sore loser.

 

* * *

 

When Steve tells Sam about his date on Monday, he squeals.  Sam Wilson, full grown man, squeals.

“I’m getting you coffee and you’re going to tell us all about it.  How much of the works do you get on a scale of one to ten?  One being left with nothing and ten being ‘Ooo I got me _sooooooome_.’” Sam dances lewdly and there’s some spanking action involved.

Steve ends up with a double chocolaty chip crème Frappuccino, extra chips, extra syrup, extra whipped cream, extra _everything_. 

He can’t even drink it it’s so sweet. It’s a good day.

 

* * *

 

“So what are you and Steve doing for your birthday?” Natasha asks in the trailer.  Bucky is looking over the latest prints, and fucking finally they’re making good time.

“Uh…I don’t know.  I haven’t really brought it up, it’s not a big deal.”

Natasha stares. “He does know…”

“Yes, Natasha, he does know when my birthday is.  But we’ve only been dating a few months, he doesn’t have to even get me anything big.  I have no expectations, really.”

“I always forget you’re a low maintenance girlfriend,” Natasha smiles.

 

* * *

 

"So what’re you getting Bucky for his birthday?” Sam asks casually.

“I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it, honestly.” Steve shrugs.

“Isn’t it coming up?” Bruce asks. Banner plays like he’s above the foursome’s gossip, but he’s just as guilty of it.

“Yeah, March 10th.”

“Ok, let’s think…first birthday when you start dating, that’s’a big deal,” Sam says, he tosses a plush basketball to Thor who catches it easily one-handed.

“Yes, but it’s still early in their courtship,” Thor adds.  Sam nods in agreement.

“I think Bucky’s pretty low maintenance, I can figure it out,” Steve sighs, looking at, not reading, his emails.

Sam levels Steve with a look.  “Pfft. Naw man, you can’t.  And I am not going to stand by and let my best friend ruin what has got to be - and I’m not using this lightly dude - the best thing that has happened to him _ever_ , all because he’s a procrastinator.”

Steve rolls his eyes and spots both Thor and Bruce nodding in agreement. “Really guys?”

"You can’t argue with the facts.”

“You’re terrible at purchasing gifts, Steve; I say that with all the love in my heart. Absolute shit,” Thor says frankly.

Steve starts to panic.  “What should I do?”

“We’ll think of something…Go big or go home, right?”

 

* * *

 

In the end, Steve doesn’t end up taking their advice and instead he goes with his gut. Steve takes Bucky to the batting cages (and out drives him), then the driving range (where he out drives him again – “Seriously? You can’t even let me win on my birthday?!”), and finally Bucky’s favorite diner for his favorite dessert. 

Afterwards he blows him nice and sweet and slow in the car, and again in Bucky’s apartment before bed.

It’s pretty much Bucky’s best birthday ever.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve doesn’t know why he’s so shocked, but when he sees Bucky dancing and singing in his living room, body swaying to some bass heavy beat and hips rolling absolutely filthy, but in that moment he’s overcome with it. 

It frightens him when those words come to mind, those three little words that carry a meaning so heavy.  When Bucky spins widely and catches Steve’s hesitation, he’s at his side immediately, eyes dragging along Steve. “What’s wrong, baby? You ok?”

Steve says nothing and swallows.  He takes his hands and cups either side of Bucky’s face, holding him there and searching his face.  Bucky wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrists and looks at Steve worriedly, his lips are parted as if to question him but he doesn’t say anything…a stillness in his eyes as if understanding.  He lets Steve take him in, really look at him, and what Steve sees? It steals his breath;

Bucky’s the most beautiful thing Steve’s ever seen.  The way his hair falls over his forehead, the way his eyes light up impossibly brighter when he catches Steve’s eyes on him, that smile…god Steve’s drawn that smile a hundred times by now, the promises he makes to keep it on his face, he’d do anything. He caresses his thumb on Bucky’s cheek and Bucky nuzzles into it.  How did it happen so quickly? How has Bucky become such a vital part of his life, an extension of him, as important as his kidneys or his heart?  Something he hadn’t really experienced since his mother was still alive.

“Steve…” Bucky breathes, and Steve leans in, holding Bucky’s face and pressing the softest of kisses to his lips.  It stays that way, chaste and deep, with Steve directing their kisses and tilting their faces just so. Bucky sighs into it, eyes falling shut with a sharp inhale, he gives in, squeezing at Steve’s wrists.

They’ve kissed so many times now, so many different ones, each with their own promises, but never like this.  It was deep and strong, a declaration they both could feel, and that they both give fervently.  It turns their kisses desperate and hot and hungry.  Steve presses Bucky back and guides him to the bedroom. They pull at their clothes and let their hands explore skin as if it was new, as if it were the first time – except this time it’s better, it’s passionate, it’s…it’s _more_.

God, Steve has never felt so hot.  He feels like Bucky’s hands are scalding his skin, branding him with every touch and burning him from the inside out.  He’s practically squirming now as Bucky bobs his head, throat relaxing and taking him deeper and deeper, fingers rubbing relentlessly on that one spot inside.

Steve’s got both hands tangled in Bucky’s hair, guiding him, watching him and every movement. His soft tongue sliding up and down, his lips glistening, the little mewls Bucky makes with every swallowed thrust of Steve’s hips, and _fuck,_ how can it be this good _every time?_

 _Because it’s Bucky,_ that’s why. 

He feels himself reaching the edge, his toes curling as he taps Bucky off, guiding him to lie flat on his stomach as he kisses his shoulder, down his spine.  He nips and lips at the skin as he settles between Bucky’s cheeks, laving his hole in attention, sucking and kissing and licking, coaxing the muscle to relax under his tongue's ministrations.  Bucky passes him the lube, and Steve preps him slowly.  Bucky’s aching for it, writhing and panting “ _so good, it’s so good.”_   Steve preens for it, he’s watched and learned Bucky’s body and needs tactilely – the same way he learns everything else, and watching Bucky come apart from it is glorious, it’s fucking beautiful.

“Fuck, Stevie…” Bucky gasps as Steve presses deeper and suckles at the skin and Bucky cries out softly.  “I’m gunna come, baby, come on…”

Steve slicks himself up and guides Bucky onto his side, propping his left leg up a little to ease his way inside.  Bucky moans at the intrusion, at the feeling of Steve slipping further and further into his body.  Pelvis flushed against his ass, Steve drapes himself over Bucky’s body and kisses him wherever he can reach; his lips, his jaw, his forehead, and all the way down to his shoulder.  Each kiss a silent act of devotion as he slowly rolls his hips, thrusts in and out. 

Bucky never takes his eyes off Steve’s face, even as he cries out in pleasure with his eyes glassy, dazed the intensity of it all.  Steve groans with each slow drag and keeps one hand behind Bucky’s left knee and one eye braced behind Bucky’s back for support, pumping his cock in and out of his lover’s body slowly, his face twisting with pleasure.

Steve slips out just long enough to roll Bucky flat on his back and Bucky reaches for him, places his hand on the back of Steve’s neck and pulls him in, kissing and licking into his mouth.  Soft whines escape Bucky’s lips between breaths and Steve breaths them in, gradually picking up his pace as Bucky moans with the undulation. _Uh…uh…uh…_

They don’t speak, saying everything they can without words, making love with their bodies before they can even say it aloud.  It struck Steve how they’ve done this many times, explored each other’s bodies, wringing pleasure form each other, but again, never like this.  Steve guides Bucky’s hand to his swollen cock, red and leaking on his belly and together they wring out his orgasm, Bucky moaning higher and higher until his voice cracks and he buries his face in the hollow of Steve’s neck, gasping for breath as he paints his stomach.  Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, runs his fingers through his hair and whispers hoarsely in his ear, coaxing him to come for him, _please, please come for me Stevie, I want it, I wanna feel all of you—_

And he does.  He comes hard, the air in his chest wheezing out as he burrows into Bucky’s shoulder, crying out and pumping into Bucky’s body, rocking his hips over and over to completion before quieting to mewls and whimpers.  Bucky coos at him, kisses his face gently as if he knows…god he _must_ …what Steve had to choke back as he came;  _I love you_. Instead Steve whispers “What do you want?” kissing Bucky’s heated, slick skin. “What do you want, I’ll give it to you…anything…” He husks as he brings Bucky’s earlobe between his teeth with a hiss.  He must sound crazy, a post-orgasmic high but so much more.

“Anything -God, everything- you’ll give me…I want it all, I want _you_ . I…” Bucky whines.  He doesn’t say anymore, and Steve’s twisting himself around him, wrapping him in his arms and kissing him deeply and wetly everywhere, every bit of skin he can get his mouth on. He’ll give Bucky anything and everything he wants, because it’s Bucky, and Bucky’s glorious, fucking beautiful and _Steve’s_.

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t believe you guys are actually moving in together,” Natasha says in honest disbelief.  She’s helping Bucky pack up his apartment, they decided to move into Steve’s despite both being Brooklyn boys, it’s bigger and more central.  Bucky tries not to dwell.

“I thought you were happy?” Bucky frowns, packing up his movie collection.

“I am I just…” Natasha sighs, “I can’t believe it’s actually happening. I am such a good friend.”

“I can’t believe you’re still trying to take credit—“

“I mean, you’d be some hermit living in some hovel down in who knows where,” Natasha sighs again, this time a little more triumphantly. “ _Such_ a good friend.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and stops fighting her delusions at this point.

 

* * *

 

“You’re still gunna come visit me, right?”

“Sam, for the last time, _I’m not moving_.  Bucky moving in doesn’t change anything. We’ll still go for our runs and our man-dates. I mean really, we still work together. I see you more than I see him anyways.”

“And keep it that way if you know what’s good for y’all,” Sam threatens with a smile.  “I can’t wrap my head around it, this is really happening!”

“Yep.” Steve answers with a smile.  He wasn’t sure Bucky would say yes when he asked.  Bucky had been staying at his place four or five nights a week, but still, to anyone else, this may have seemed a little fast. They’d only been dating for about eight months but everything with Bucky came so easy, like he’d known him all his life.  They had their bad days, Steve was bull-headed on a good day and a fucking rock on a bad one. Bucky was no push over and he never gave into Steve’s fits, but still overall, being with Buck was effortless, it came as simple to Steve as breathing.  Steve had thought out a whole pros list to convince Bucky that moving to Manhattan would be better for both of them, but he didn’t even need it; Bucky said yes without hesitation and practically blew him on his kitchen floor as a thank you.

“This is gunna be awesome.  Man, I love Bucky, even back when he clocked you in the face…I knew he was gunna be something special,” Sam muses and Steve laughs.

“Should I be worried? Are you going to steal my boyfriend now?” Sam makes a face that Steve knows is honest disgust.

“Nah, he’s all yours for the romancin’…his girl though…” Sam winks and Steve laughs again, this time because he knows Natasha would chew him up and spit him out, all the while Sam would be a mess of nothing but _please’s_ and _thank you’s_. Sam takes a deep breath and drops a hand on Steve’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze.  An unspoken gesture one can only find between the closest of friends, before 'being Sam' and ruining the moment.

“Man, I am such a good friend,” he starts, but he doesn’t finish before Steve is whipping him with a pillow.

 

* * *

 

Two Years later…

 

* * *

 

The building was finished and opened with all the pomp and circumstance expected of a Stark party.  The gala was lavish and festive, tastefully decorated and swarming with only the best and richest of New York City and all for Steve.

Bucky fumbles with his bowtie, feeling utterly out of place and absolutely ridiculous.  He never came to these things for his other buildings, hell, he doesn’t think he was actually ever invited, but that’s the perk of screwing the architect for the place.  Bucky ran a hand over his hair, feeling the greasy pomade and kicking himself for not getting his haircut like he should’ve, but all Steve had to do was bat those baby blues at him cooing how rugged it made Bucky look and he was mush.  Now here he was with his too-long hippie hair, hair slicked back and pulled into a low ponytail at the base of his skull and frown hanging off his face.

Of course, seeing Steve catching glimpse of him and checking him out across the room?  That still kicked up those old butterflies Bucky would’ve sworn should’ve been long gone by now, but somehow Steve still gets him to smile every time.  

Steve gets a break from the investors, all singing his praises and in disbelief that yes, Steve isn’t even thirty yet. Almost, but not quite.  Bucky snags him quickly with two glasses of champagne and leads him out to the deck outside. 

“You look like you could use some air,” Bucky says, handing one of the glasses to Steve. 

Steve grimaces and tugs at his collar. “You’re a life saver.  I always hate this part…the openings.  So much pressure and then ass-kissing and I just…you know?”

“You don’t do well with being the center of attention,” Bucky answers for him and Steve smiles wanly. 

“I just wanna go home, I can’t think of anywhere else I want to be except at home with my boyfriend,” Steve sighs. 

Bucky seizes his moment.

“Sure, but look at you. When’s the last time we got all fancy like this, huh? Answer: never.  You look good, sweetheart,” Bucky says, flashing his biggest smile, the one that always gets that shy look from Steve and hot under the collar; it works and Steve blushes, but then Bucky frowns and looks hard which causes Steve to falter.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing it’s just…You look great but something’s not right, something's missing.” Bucky frowns deeper, and takes Steve’s hand. “Give me a twirl.”

Steve reluctantly turns. “What? What is it? Did I miss a button? Did I drop a cufflink? God, Buck, if I’ve been walking around this party for an hour with a stain on my ass--”  

“Oh, I know what it is; this,” Bucky says, and Steve turns to face him only to find Bucky bent on one knee, ring box in his hand and open with a bright gold band. Steve feels his heart leap into his throat in shock.

“Bucky, are you serious…?”

“Yeah, Stevie…” Bucky’s voice cracks, and Steve can barely seem him through the tears already welling in his eyes.

“Oh, Buck…”

“God, Steve—you’re more stubborn and bull-headed than anyone I’ve ever met. No, no don’t make that face, I ain’t done yet, will you keep your trap shut for thirty seconds for once, _Christ_ . I say that Stevie because, God help me, _I love you_.  Being with you these past three years have been the best years of my life and I can’t imagine spending the rest of my days without going toe to toe with anyone else but my best, stubborn guy.  So I’m askin’ ya, Steven Grant Rogers, will you make an honest man outta me?  Will you marry me?” Bucky asks, voice shaky. 

“Oh my God, Yeah Buck. Yes, yes, of course! Of course, Bucky!” Steve says without hesitation.  Bucky blows out a breath of air and slides the ring on Steve’s left hand before Steve tackles him back against the railing with a kiss, and now they’re both crying happy tears, here at the top of the world.  Applause pierces their blissful fog and Steve can see their friends watching; Sam and Natasha, Thor, Bruce, and the Howlies all cheering in excitement, even Tony is grinning something wicked.  Steve gives Bucky one more kiss, quick and chaste with offered promise before they go inside, eyes still with tears, and face the growing crowd. Now people who had already congratulated Steve come back around to congratulate them both. This time Steve doesn’t mind; it’s the best night of his life and it isn’t just about him or the achievement that is Stark Tower in the New York skyline, it’s about him and Bucky and the building that brought them together. 

They entertain and mingle with the people for a few, but the minute they catch a break, they go get themselves lost in the halls of Stark Tower, because hell _,_

 _They built it; why not christen it, amiright Buck_? 

Besides, they know all the best places to hide anyhow.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh Tony Stark, you da real MVP of this story. Also Sam...SAM, you were a blessing to write.
> 
> Thank you for reading! This was a lot of fun to write. Feel free to come find me on [Tumblr](http://captainbeardburn.tumblr.com) and flail with me about our favorite Brooklynites. :)
> 
> Comments and Kudos are very much appreciated! I'm still getting back into the swing of things writing-wise and I've been away too long so please be gentle with me.


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